


Eastern Winds

by SherlocksHolmie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, M/M, Post-Series, a shortish story spread out over lots of chapters for no real reason if I'm honest, first one i wrote but never published on a03
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 16,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4897591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlocksHolmie/pseuds/SherlocksHolmie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock had a lucky escape from Eastern Europe after Mycroft summoned his brother back to England. After all, Moriarty had returned. However, the only thing Sherlock has been able to think about is not the master criminal Moriarty but his very own blogger, John Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this about a year ago on wattpad, and now I think It's time I put it on here and see what you guys think. (it won't be exactly the same because I'll be updating any embarrassing mistakes I made last year.

**_Sherlocks_ _P.O.V;_ **

I hung up on Mycroft's call almost immediately. I felt the plane sharply turn, retreating to the airport we had just planned to swiftly leave. I barely noticed the private jet Mycroft had so easily acquired had landed until the doors to the cockpit swung open and the pilot exited. I knew I had only seconds to compose myself before following suit.I rose and made my way to the door of the jet whilst drying my damp cheeks with the corner of my sleeve. Only a single tear had time to escape before I got the call.  _The Call._ The call that had brought me back to England, but more importantly, John.

 _John_.

I shook my head. I was almost  _feeling again._ I let the emotion drain from my face, wiping the sweat from my brow and pulling my coat tighter around me, I stepped out of the jet.

The blast of cold winds hit me, I realised how much I would have missed the cold nipping at my ears and fingers, humidity is not something I value much... I stare across the abandoned air strip, breathing in England and every last aspect of it from the grey, pathetic-looking clouds, to the trodden down, slightly brown grass blowing in the breeze. A hand made contact with my back. I spun round to my disappointment, it was Mycroft. "Little Brother, you seemed to have lucked out again. For God's sake Sherlock. This time  _Behave!"_ We could both hear John Jogging over to where we stood. This left Mycroft barely any time to mutter " _For Mother_ ". I gave the smallest of nods. Mycroft simply gestured farewell using his umbrella before climbing into the backseat of his Jaguar.

By the time the car door had shut behind Mycroft, John had made his way to me. He was beaming up at me in awe of the luck I appear to be having today. "You jammy bloody git! Only you. Only bloody YOU Sherlock Holmes could get away with killing a man! I mean the guy had it coming, blackmailing everyone and all.. but I mean COME ON???  **How do you do it?** " I simply chuckled to myself. "John, It's nice to see you too... may we go home, please? After all, It's New Years Eve"

We headed towards the car which had brought us to the air strip. Headed for home my mind was occupied with only one thought. How good it was to know I will never have to leave John again.

The return of Moriarty hadn't entered my mind...


	2. Suprise?

_**John's** _ **POV:**

I cannot believe his luck. Sherlock Holmes can get away with murder... Literally. I suppose his brother runs the entirety of the British Secret Service, but Sherlock had Shot Charles Magnussen. Point blank too... _The one thing he never wanted to do was become a killer?_

Although the thoughts of Sherlock's actions haunted me throughout out the journey, my head was dominated by something else.

_I'm not losing him_

The whole journey was spent internalising Sherlock's return to England, then again, four minutes isn't long enough to come to terms with his leaving. My plans for the evening were buggered too now. I had planned to throw a small gathering for New Years Eve at Baker Street, partially for recreational purposes but also, I had wanted to surround myself with my friends since it would be my first New Years Eve in years without my best friend while the realisation of never seeing him again would slowly creep into his thoughts. I know Sherlock can be rude, ignorant, arrogant, condescending..  _What's my point again?_  Oh yes, Holidays would not be the same without the detective and the beautifully sad sound of his violin which Mrs Hudson demanded he played.

I tried to idly mention the party to Sherlock at which point the previous topic was dropped and the detectives head spun to face me at such a speed I thought it was about to fall off of his shoulders. "You _cannot_ be serious?" He groaned. "Is it not bad enough you insist we take part in the ridiculous tradition of the ' _countdown_ ' annually but I have to endure the pain with _people_ too"

I sighed gently. "Sherlock, considering the plans did not concern you until about.." I glanced at my watch, "Um, 50 minutes ago, you better accept defeat because I will not have a repeat of the tantrum you threw during Christmas dinner Sherl-"

"John, we both know that crackers a rigged so a certain side will be the winner. I had already deduced the winning side when Scotland Yard grabbe-"

"Sherlock! Greg won the little set of screwdrivers. God Knows that I would only of used them as weaponry against you. I was in the army.. Remember." We chuckled lightly together. I cannot fathom the words to explain how different my life would had been if Sherlock had gotten to Europe. I was just glad he was staying at home. Baker Street would never have been the same... The cab pulled up outside of the flat, Sherlock flung himself from the car, I gave Mycroft's driver a polite nod before following him. We stood looking at the brass numbers on the door  **221B.** Sherlock looked down at me, was he smiling at me? Not his usual fake smile, this grin reached his eyes and I could see them swimming with delight. "Shall we?" Sherlock gestured for me to enter. "Mind the step, John" I walked past him

_**"Mrs Hudson We're Home"** _


	3. Home

**Sherlock's POV:**

I hung back, watching John enter our home on Baker Street so that I could admire my home I was sure to have lost when something in my peripheral vision gained my attention. John was already in conversation with Mrs Hudson but I had noticed that John must have shrunk his jeans in the wash, they hugged his botto-

 _WHAT am I thinking?_ This is JOHN. My flat share who is coincidentally, straight. The thought of being sent to Europe and certain death had definitely changed my perception of John, I really need to control myself... John would never be interested in someone like myself, even if he was gay, or bisexual. I know he cares for my well being, but surely that's common courtesy for flat mates? After all we British are nothing if not 'proper.' Well I cannot speak for myself and my sociopathic tendencies.

I found myself in a sudden embrace which brought me back into reality. I recognised the scent immediately before looking down. Mrs Hudson. She was smiling up at me "Oh Sherlock, I thought we'd never see you again dear! Come, I'll make you some tea and you can tell me all about it!" She started make her way to her kitchen before turning again "How lovely it'll be to have you here again dear!" Mrs Hudson departed. We made our way up the stairs to our flat, I couldn't help but ascend them slowly, running my fingertips over the bumpy wallpaper and inhaling the familiar scent of home. I pushed past John ignoring his muffled complaints to open the door to our flat. I strode to the one place I have spent much of my time in over the years, and the one spot I would never want to leave ever again.

**My Chair.**


	4. Tea for Two

**John's POV:**

I watched Sherlock sink into the dusty leather chair, with his eyes closed the corners of his mouth turn upwards. I continued to watch him from the door as he sat still, half smiling. Sherlock belonged here in Baker Street  _with me._

I heard Mrs Hudson coming upstairs to join us, Sherlock must have heard her too as his eyes snapped open, making exact contact with mine. His eyes were swimming with happiness, I had only ever seen this a few times, once when we saw each other for the first time when he had "returned from the grave" and the second, when he had looked at  _'The Woman'_

I made my way to my chair as Mrs Hudson brought a chair over and served our tea. "Remember boys, I'm not your housekeeper." There was no sound but Sherlock's deep chuckle while we sipped at our tea, "Mrs Hudson, how I would have missed you" Sherlock smiled again, the smile even reached his eyes. It's becoming a habit of his today, smiling. Yet here I am staring at him, in awe of his slightly wonky teeth and perfect eyes. He must have felt my gaze as his eyes once again met mine in an instant. I could have sworn Sherlock winked at me before leaning back into his seat continuing to grin. "So, Mrs Hudson, let me tell you why I have returned..."

Sherlock and I filled in Mrs Hudson on the days events. Of course she had seen Moriarty on the television earlier but all she wanted was details! She would have been lost without Sherlock here and feared that I would have left again, as I had when we thought he was dead. I had promised myself and Mrs Hudson that I wouldn't leave Baker Street as long as she was there. I could not burden here again. However, this is all a thing of the past Sherlock has returned after being gone half a day. A vast improvement considering he let us believe him to be dead for two years.

Mrs Hudson left our flat, returning to her own while Sherlock and I sat in our respective seats just looking around at Baker Street. Our home. Our home that could be so easily taken away from us, It's not home without the other. Why would Sherlock have risked ruining our lives? Over Magnussen blackmailing people? Something so trivial, almost ripped the two of us apart. I could have lost the chance to tell him how I felt, no! Still feel about him. I'm going to have to seize that chance very soon in case Moriarty's return stops us...

I glanced at my watch, it was already 4:30 and I needed to get ready, I had told everyone to come to Baker Street for 6pm as Sherlock would have been landing in Europe and I would be sat alone in the previous flat that I had owned consulting detective, wallowing in self pity, missing my flatmate. No longer do I have to grieve, He's sat in front of me, in our flat, where he belonged. At Baker Street.

___

I jumped into the shower first as Sherlock was dragging his feet. He was trying everything in his power to make me call off the gathering but I was not going to budge. Although and evening alone with him would be wonderful, it was the principal of the matter, and everyone had already agreed to come.

I stood staring at my wardrobe which was bursting at the seams with jumpers. In the end I chose the one Sherlock had bought me on my birthday the second year after we had met. It was blue coincidentally 'brought out my eyes' according to my sister Harry, Sherlock had sworn he merely picked one of the shelf in a rush due to the 'social norm' which is exchanging gifts on birthdays. I was doubtful.

I pulled the jumper down over my head, smoothing my hair, I made my way to the kitchen to make some tea. As I was about to call asking if Sherlock wanted some tea, he appeared in the doorway to his bedroom.

I swallowed hard.  _He's wearing the purple shirt!!!!!_ He ruffled his hair before making his way to the kitchen, he walked so smoothly, gracefully, yet all I could do was stare at his chest. I gazed at where the shirt gaped and the buttons pulled from the tension Sherlock's large chest provided. Eventually I tore my gaze away as I heard Sherlock as me a question. "Sor-Sorry what was that Sherlock?"

"I asked if you were making tea for two, John"


	5. Legal Torture

**Sherlock's POV:**

I had bought John a gift for when I had left, a new jumper, it was ghastly, but he would unfortunately adore it. It was a similar colour to the one he had chosen for tonight, another gift from myself, but this was much more expensive and soft. I had left it on my bed, so that when he went into my room after I had been deported to Europe, however long that would take, he would find a small reminder of myself despite being hundreds of miles apart. John looked perfect in a jumper, my imagination wondered leaving me picturing what he would look like in the new midnight blue, cashmere sweater I had bought for it. I was about to go and retrieve the jumper and give it to John when the doorbell rang.

Molly Hooper and Graham, no, Greg Lestrade entered followed by Mrs Hudson. As they all piled into the flat my presence went unnoticed. John and Mrs Hudson had kept my return a secret. Both Molly and Scotland Yard gave John sympathetic looks, after an apologetic hug from one and a polite clap on the back from the other, John could only smile. "Pity about Sherlock, John. Especially since Moriarty was back on our screens today. God knows what we'll do to stop the bastard this time"

John was still smiling back at Greg who, may I add, looked quizzical as to why John was beaming up at him considering the great loss of his best friend. John gave Mrs Hudson a quick sideways glance before announcing "Well Greg, I think London will be ok for quite some time" I took this as my queue to make my presence known. I stepped out of the kitchen only to see Molly and Greg's jaws drop. I heard a familiar exclamation "Oh, you  _Bastard!_ " Before Molly ran across the room and threw her arms around me. "It's bloody good to see you Sherlock, we'll need you to work tomorrow considering, um, recent events, if that's not too much." Oh how he makes me laugh, the police will never be able to cope without me in London, then again the only attention that Moriarty requires is that of my own... "I'm sure that John and I can make it, as long as he's light on the wine tonight.." I send a small wink Johns way, it was barely notable, but John must have seen because he knitted his eyebrows to try and look annoyed before grinning back at me. Molly untangled her arms from around me before saying something about missing me. God, she is  _still_ interested in me? "Speaking of wine, I'm sure Mrs Hudson will pour you all a drink."

"I'm Not your housekeeper!"

The next few hours of my life were torturous. Is it not bad enough that I was almost torn away from London but I must now endure hours of small talk with people who are so drunk they're "rat arsed" if you pardon the expression. I have never understood the New Years Eve tradition. Yes, we're entering a new year but why does this require buckets of alcohol to be consumed and a countdown, it is a normal day, whether it is the first of a new year or not. Nothing changes. Except for blood-alcohol levels. It's a poor excuse for parties and promotional offers.

I found myself wedged between Molly and Greg on the sofa due to Mrs Hudson napping in my chair. possibly one glass too many? Greg was fawning over Molly, meanwhile Molly was fawning over me.  **I cannot bare this anymore.** I excused myself and made my way swiftly to the kitchen. My quick exit gave me time to breathe. My usually expressionless face only showed despair tonight that was until John followed me to the kitchen. I heard him enter but stayed facing forwards, we were only 15 minutes away from the countdown then hopefully my suffering will end. John could sense my despair and he threw his arm around my shoulders "Come on Sherly, lets get you a dru-dr-DRINK" His breath smelt like pure alcohol, the familiar scent of John was lost, I prefer him sober. "You'll stop stuss-stressing" He smacked my bum before walking to the fridge to 'grab me a beer' as he so poetically put it.  **He just touched my arse?** Ok, maybe drunk John isn't too bad. Still I refused his offer of an alcoholic beverage and stuck to my tea. It allowed me to think and my thoughts stay unclouded, there is only one thing I could think about now

_John just touched my arse._


	6. Escorted

**John's POV:**

_Shit, shit, shit!_ Why did I just do that? I daren't turn around. I can imagine a his poor horror stricken face now, just keep going through the fridge John, he will just think you're much drunker than you are. Oh god I'm an idiot, I slowly turned around, extending my arm, holding a can of cider out towards Sherlock. To my own astonishment, he was beaming back at me yet confusion flashed across his eyes as they met mine. I was the first to look away before the detective politely declined the can and headed towards the kettle.

He was actually smiling. There were no questions, or frowns or disappointing stares, maybe I was wrong about Sherlock all along. We continued to stand in the kitchen together a while longer as he made himself a glass of water and slowly drank it. He turned to face me and the corners of his mouth were still turned upwards. God knows how much I would pay to know what was going through his mind as his eyes explored my body and especially as they lingered on my collar bone which was peeking through the neck of my jumper. He noticed I had too become occupied watching Sherlock's expression change before we had time to explain either of ourselves the countdown begun in the next room. Sherlock sighed and left the kitchen and I followed we stood in the doorway as we collectively chanted along with the television set. Big Ben chimed and within seconds fireworks were exploding both on the television and on the streets. Greg threw his arms around Molly lifting her from the ground cheering. Mrs Hudson began singing 'Old Lang Sye' by herself before the drunken pair joined with her.

Meanwhile I watched on from the door cheering along with my friends and I couldn't help but crack another smile. I've done a lot of smiling since we got Sherlock back home. How different today would have been had I have lost Sherlock. It was like he could tell I was pondering over the possibilities of losing him as he slid his hand into the back pocket of my jeans and bowed his head "Happy New Year, Dr Watson." I couldn't help but blush. Before I was aware of my actions, my arms had wrapped themselves around the detective's torso and I tiptoed subtly brushing my lips against his cheek while nobody in the room was paying us any attention. "Never leave again Sherlock"

"Don't worry John, I could never leave my blogger. I'd be lost without you." There I went blushing again.

I didn't want to move an inch but other people would soon start asking questions so I quickly escaped Sherlock's hold and dived into our group of friends wishing them the best of years before continuing to drink as the alcohol flowed. For the next few hours Sherlock must have been thinking over our exchange of words in the doorway as he continued to play the slow tune on the violin. We all sat and listened to him play the beautifully sad instrument before our guests slowly filtered from the flat leaving myself and the detective. I felt myself nod off on a few occasions, the last time I awoke Sherlock had his arm around my waist supporting my weight as he guided me towards  _his_ bedroom. He noticed I had stirred and softly whispered "John, you need to rest. Big day ahead of us tomorrow. You'll need your energy for blogging." I could have sworn he just winked at me. Sherlock was a different man tonight, all I wanted was to lay by his side for the entire night while his fingers made patterns on my hands as we talked until sunrise but there was truth to his words. I was exhausted and did in fact need to rest. The realisation of this hit me as he was removing my shoes, placing me into his bed and folding the covers around me. I felt something brush against my forehead before the door shut quietly behind Sherlock.

Once again I drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	7. Peace

**Sherlock's P.O.V:**

I returned to my room minutes later with two cups of tea in a poor attempt of sobering up John. Once the door was open I heard the sound of John's soft snores, I stood looking down on my blogger who was sleeping, he looked... peaceful. I am unaware of how long I watched John sleep but I eventually placed his cup of tea on the table at  the side of the bed before making my way around to the other side of the bed. After placing down my cup of tea, I relieved myself of my suit and pulled on a pair of tracksuit bottoms. As I went to sit down, I noticed the parcel at the foot of the bed addressed to John. I will surprise him over breakfast tomorrow there is no point in waking him, I wouldn't want to anyway, he looked extremely handsome while he sleeps. I quickly hid the parcel at the back of my wardrobe before returning to the bed. I too slipped under the sheets beside my blogger, I could feel his body heat radiating so that it warmed me. I stayed by his side and finished my tea before switching off the lamp at the side of the bed, leaving only the moonlight peeking through the curtains to illuminate his face. Although I was used to John falling asleep around me, especially on our longer cases, I had never truly  _looked_ at him when he had, I can't quite fathom the words to describe John's beauty as he slept, but whatever it was made my stomach feel odd, I could probably be sick if I concentrated on the feeling long enough.

John makes me nervous. I had never felt the slightest bit of compassion for any normal human being I've ever had the misfortune of meeting, except for a few exceptions, such as Mrs Hudson and my family. John was different. That is what scares me most. No man, or person has EVER made me feel this way, and I have no idea how to handle this situation, meaning I've lost control.  _Sherlock Holmes has to be in control_.

I never took my eyes off of John until I too joined John in a peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	8. Hanging

**John's P.O.V:**

My head is banging. It feels as though there is a brass band preforming inside my skull. Why do I do this to myself? Holy Shit. I have never felt this rough in my entire life, and I've been shot!

_Hang on a minute. This isn't my bed. This is... I'M IN SHERLOCKS ROOM!_

Oh my God, of course... The memories of last night came flooding back to me in an instant, our conversation in the door way, Sherlock escorting me to his bed... Sherlock. Where is he? I sat up in an instant scanning the room before a barely audible grumble sounded from next to me. I looked down to see Sherlock stirring in his sleep.

_Christ on a bike._

I am in bed with Sherlock Holmes, he had practically undressed me and put me to bed, before he joined me here. I do hope Mrs. Hudson doesn't come looking for us, then again she went a bit heavy on the wine last night too... She won't surface for hours. I decided it would be best to lay back down, beside Sherlock, as though I had never awoken. I laid on my side to face him, our noses almost touching. I stayed there for at least an hour, he was so beautiful when he was sleeping, he was almost angelic. So innocent, opposed to the usual hard faced Sherlock. Eventually the detectives eyelids began to flutter, they opened revealing his beautiful eyes which made direct contact with my own. He did his best to grumble "Good morning, John" before throwing the sheets back over me and placing his arm over me in the process.

I blushed, making Sherlock turn up the corners of his mouth. "I do hope you don't often stare at me while I sleep" he threw a wink in my direction. I couldn't help but reach out towards him placing my hand on his chest. His  _bare_ chest, sweet baby Jesus, the man was topless. I could feel the cool skin of his torso shiver as I ran my fingertips over the muscles that ripled beneath his skin. The only words I could muster were "I do hope Mrs Hudson doesn't walk in now, imagine the rumours..." Sherlock deep throaty laugh shook the bedframe as he snuggled in closer. "and what would those rumours be John?" He barely whispered my name before he threw himself out of the bed and strode across the room to his chest of drawers. He bent down to retrieve fresh underwear from the bottom drawer and the sunlight that crept through the curtains shone onto his back and I could see every single vertebrate that made up his spine. He had always been a skinny man, but quite recently he had eaten even less and I'm afraid now Moriarty is back, he'll continue to neglect his food. My mind drifted as Sherlock made his way into the bathroom to change his underwear. Before I knew it he was back in the bedroom standing in front of his wardrobe, stooped over once more. Before I even had time to stare at his behind he had spun around to face me, arms outstretched, thrusting a package towards me.

It was a present. For me?


	9. Human Error

**Sherlock's P.O.V:**

I held John's gaze for only a moment before directing my eyes to the floor. "Sherlock, is that... Is that for me?" I could hear his smile as he spoke. I nodded before making my way back to him. Perched on the edge of my bed staring at the poorly wrapped gift in my hands. It was the first wrapping I'd been left unsupervised to do as Mrs. Hudson or John would help me on special occasions. I gingerly passed the gift to John. I looked up and only saw John grinning back at me.

"John, I can only apologise for the state of the paper, you see I hadn't informed Mrs. Hudson of the gift I had bought for you... I was-" I gulped. "I had planned on leaving this gift behind for you when I had, well, um" my eyes began darting around the room, since when am I, Sherlock Holmes, a nervous man? "You know."

I could see the blush working it's way up John's neck, I often witness John turn this shade of pink as he is the worlds easiest man to embarrass, especially when people would comment on our relationship in the past. I couldn't help but smile as I watched the man in front of me turn pink once again. "Sherlock, you really didn't have t-"

"No John, I did have to, now open it before I do it for you, looking at the appalling state of the wrapping is driving me wild."

John's raised a single eyebrow at me before he tore into the paper revealing the ocean blue, cashmere sweater I had purchased in Selfridges just weeks ago. "John, I have the receipt still if you wish to return it."  Oh god, why did I buy him another jumper? He probably has hundreds of the ruddy things! Nope.. Twenty eight actually, well, twenty nine now. I should have been more thoughtful. Oh God. He's going to hate it...

John must have been able to see the worry and panic in my face because suddenly I was pulled backwards from my seat on the edge of the bed and I was engulfed by John's embrace. "Oh Sherlock! I love it, It's the most beautiful gift you've ever given me, then again, one year you did get me a human foot for my birthday." I chuckled. Remembering fondly, the displeasure John had expressed that day. "Sherlock, just one thing, why? The gift I mean, why give it to me, Why now? Why not before you left?"

"Well, John, I had to repay my blogger, we have been a... team for years, you have killed for me, and I, you. Do you remember the case we took at Baskerville?" John nodded, "I meant what I said, I don't have friends, I only have one. That's you John. You are one of the few people who have changed my life, for the better. I couldn't bare to give the gift to you before I left, I didn't want to drag out the process of my sudden departure and so I had planned to leave it behind for you, here in Baker Street. I was going to leave it on my bed in hope that one day you would pluck up the courage to enter, and see the gift I had left behind for you."

John's eyes began to fill with tears, but I still haven't finished... " I wanted you to know, that despite the miles between us, I value you and your friendship more than my own life which is why I have killed for you. I would do anything to ensure your safety John, and upon finding the gift I hoped you would understand, all I have done the past few years was for you."

My voice broke, along with my composure as I let a single tear fell.  _Human Error._ John leaned forward once more, and wiped the tear away, his hand lingering on my cheek.

I couldn't help but notice the tears escape from his eyes too.


	10. The Kiss

**John's P.O.V;**

_God John, pull yourself together_. My thumbs continued to caress Sherlock's cheek as I continued to sniff and snuffle trying to stop the tears. This was a new side to Sherlock that I'd never seen before. It was as though he could actually feel... I am sure of my feelings for Sherlock, I wanted nothing more than to spend every waking minute with him and for the time I was sleeping, it would have to be next to him. There was no one else anymore, I no longer looked at women, I could only see the chocolate curls that fell loosely framing the pale face with the prominent cheekbones. I ran my eyes over his face and followed the defined line of his jaw when they finally rested on his lips which formed a perfects cupid bow shape...

I could feel Sherlock's stare. I looked up and our eyes met and I drank him in. His eyes were the most green I had ever seen them, they often changed colour, but this was the most beautiful yet...

I leaned into him, his eyes drawing me in.

I abruptly stopped myself, this is Sherlock Holmes, the sociopath, high functioning but still a sociopath. How could he possibly love me? I always assumed he would be straight after all with  _The Woman_  he knew where to look and he often borrowed my laptop... I saw the disappointment flash across the detectives eyes,  _he wanted this too._

I closed the distance between us pressing my lips against his with such force he fell backwards to lie on the bed. My hands worked their way into his hair whilst his placed his hands on my hips and then I felt him smile and I deepened the kiss earning a small groan from the detective.  _My detective._  His arm snaked around my waist as he pulled my body flush against his. We eventually came up for air, the pair of us continued to lie on the bed for quite some time, simply holding each other, legs intertwined.

It was me who broke the silence. "Sherlock, what now?"

"Breakfast"

"What?"

"You heard me, breakfast, I'm taking you to breakfast before we head to Scotland Yard, after all John the work simply cannot wait any longer." I sighed, typical bloody Sherlock, we've just been making out for the first time and cuddled. Two heterosexual men have just proved to each other they're anything but! Our friendship had truly ended.

However, something much more exciting has just begun.


	11. Steamy Hallway

**Sherlock's P.O.V;**

I wasn't planning on letting John go for quite some time, but duty calls. Being the worlds only consulting detective can be such an inconvenience at times. I let John shower first as he takes longer than the average woman to dress himself, who knew picking out a jumper was such a task? I placed my hands in their usual steeple position under my chin and delved into my own thoughts.

How could Moriarty have returned? I watched the man shoot himself on the rooftop of Bart's years ago, I myself faked my own suicide, but how does one fake shooting themselves? He must have been planning this for quite some time. Then again this is Moriarty, he was hell-bent on ruining my life and I'm sure that he will take great delight in knowing John and I are together.  _Are we?_ I'm unfamiliar with how relationships work, but what I experienced before John left the room was not strictly platonic.  I mean I haven't had many friends in my lifetime but that was not something friends do...

The bathroom door creaked as it opened pulling me out of my own mind. My eyes flicked open as I leapt off of the bed and snuck my head around my own door to see John making his way through the steam filled hallway to his room. I watched the man in front of me walk away with only a towel wrapped around his bottom half. I followed the trail of water that dripped from his hair down his back until my eyes lingered on the dimples at the bottom of his spine. I longed for Johns touch and it had only been minutes since he had left my room. I strode after him.

I grabbed the doctors arms and pinned him against the wall as my lips crashed into his. John was truly delicious and I could do nothing to stop myself getting carried away, my tounge began to brush his bottom lip begging for entry. John parted his lips, granting me entrance. As our tounges danced our hands explored each others bodies and I felt a lot of pressure from Johns crotch. I let out a deep moan which only encouraged John's explorations further as he groped at my bum.

Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat. I had been so lost in the moment I hadn't noticed her entering the flat. I sprung away from John as quickly as I could. John was already beginning to blush. "So sorry boys" Mrs. Hudson joined John and turned a funny shade of pink. "I thought you might have like some tea... but. um. well I can see you're a little busy, at least you can both stop denying it now, from day one I knew, I'm telling y-"

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson, but we won't be needing tea." I returned to John's side and put my arm possessively around Johns shoulders. "I'm treating John to breakfast before we start on the case." I thought John could not blush anymore, but he just turned a deeper shade of pink as he was looking anywhere but Mrs. Hudson and I.

"Well I hope you boys enjoy yourself, just please, not in the kitchen, people eat in there!" She threw a wink our way before leaving the flat. As the door shut behind her we both exhaled and burst into fits of laughter. Johns laughter was infections and his giggles were truly adorable. I couldn't help but join in. Eventually we caught our breath and John planted a small kiss on my cheek before making his way to his bedroom to get dressed.

___

Breakfast was ok I guess, John was determined to make me eat, so I had to eat some toast to stop him bugging me, I wish he hadn't. Digestion slows me down. John seemed to enjoy every minute of our time in the quaint café only a few streets away from the station. Our conversation consisted mostly of small talk, and of Mrs. Hudson surprise appearance this morning. I took Johns hand in my own across the table. "John, I'm not really sure how these things really work, but I'm willing to learn I mean after all you are my boyfriend, right?"

"Sherlock, is that your way of asking me out?" John practically spat his coffee at me.

"I wasn't aware I had to ask.. I mean we've... This morning we..."

"Sherlock. Of course I will be your boyfriend. I'd want nothing less." He smiled at me again, the corners of his mouth hidden by his dimples and his ocean blue eyes began to sparkle with joy. "C'mon John, let us get the bill and go help out Lestrade. He's lost without us."

"I think you mean without you..."

" Yes, but John where would I be without my blogger?"

Placing money on the table we left the café hand in hand and made our way to the Scotland Yard.


	12. The Game is On

**John's P.O.V;**

It was only a short walk from the café to Scotland Yard. Our walk was quiet, we hardly spoke, after all small talk was not Sherlock's forte. Once we reached The Yard I dropped Sherlock's hand and began gazing up at him apologetically "You don't. No. We don't have to do this now Sherlock. I'll understand you know..."

"John Hamish Watson. Why would I want to hide that the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing, and befriending, is now the man who has chosen to be with me?" I could feel the blush begin to creep up my neck. I gulped.  _I will not cry in front of Lestrade and the whole of Scotland Yard._ Sherlock slid his hand into mine once again and this instantly calmed me, he slowly pecked my cheek before dragging me behind him into The Yard.

We stepped into the elevator and quickly rose to our usual floor. I squeezed the detectives hand as the doors slid open. I think that the shit was due to hit the fan any second. Preparing myself for a bombardment of glares and stares of disbelief, we steeped onto the floor and weaved our way through the desks to Greg's office. Sherlock strode in before I had the chance to stretch out my arm and knock. Unfortunately I could see Sally stood beside him through the glass, upon hearing the door open she was the first to look. I heard the woman gasp, causing Lestrade to swivel around on the spot before Donovan's jaw had time to hit the floor. Greg was puzzled by her reaction until he glanced down and saw our fingers interlocked. His eyes franticly shifted between myself and Sherlock. It was Sherlock who finally spoke, "Yes, Lestrade. John and I are now in a relationship. He is my boyfriend, I am his, is there going to be an issue?"

"God, No, Sherlock. I... It's about bloody time you two! I could have cut the sexual tension in the office with a knife at times!" Greg bounded over embracing us, placing a hand on Sherlock's back he lead him to the desk which was overrun with unorganised files, many of which contained any information they could find on Moriarty. I couldn't help but feel a burning feeling on my back, turning round I saw Donovan still frozen to the spot, gobsmacked. I sighed. "Honestly Donovan, never seen a gay couple before?"

She wheezed attempting to speak before bursting into a fit of laughter. I continued to to give her my best  _What's so funny?_ look which probably wasn't helping the situation. Myself and the two other men in the office waited patiently to hear what the hysterical woman had to say.

"How?..." She tried to stifle her laughter, "I mean John, c'mon? Blink twice if he's making you say this? No? REALLY? Wow. There is no way you two are together, look at the freak!"

I saw Sherlock flinch slightly out of the corner of my eye as Sally threw yet another insult his way. Dragging him behind me I made my way back to where she was standing. "Sally, just for your information. Sherlock is forcing me to do nothing, ok? You need to get it into your narrow mind, that even Sherlock can be happy. We are happy, and I'm certain there is nothing you can say that will change that." Gripping Sherlock's hand tighter. "I do NOT appreciate you throwing insults his way, after all HE is helping YOU because you are so stupid that you cannot figure out your own cases. Maybe if you spent less time trying to belittle my boyfriend and more time focusing on work, we'd see a little less of each other!"

Sally hastily exited the office. "Oh and Sally..." She turned her head once more "You might want to buy a new deodorant to keep at Andersons." she departed, scowling. Almost Immediately I felt hot breath against my ear before hearing a whisper. "John, just to let you know, that, right there. What you just did. That turned me on." His hand brushed my bum as he went to sit beside Lestrade, I too sat down as quickly as possible, trying to disguise my jeans becoming strained.

___

Hours passed by as we sifted and sorted through the countless files that we were now organising into piles on Lestrade's desk. We were about our sixth cup of coffee in as the final file was slammed down by Sherlock. "ABSOLOUTLEY NOTHING! HOW DID HE DO IT?" Sherlock threw his hands above his head and stood up pacing around the office. He was clearly stressed, and was no closer to even finding a lead on Moriarty. Sipping at our coffee Greg continued to shoot worrying glances my way, I returned them. "Sherlock... maybe we should just, I don't know. Start up again tomorrow? He won't be hiding long. God knows he's back, that's even if it's bloody him this time!" Sherlock froze. His head snapped towards me. "What did you say?" his eyes were fixed on mine, his piercing stare that would usually made me shiver only warmed me today. "Maybe we should leave it for today, go back to the flat, order so-"

"Nope, after that."

"What? That he's back..."

"JOHN! THE LAST THING YOU SAID!"

Jumping slightly at the detective's raised voice I managed to reply. " _even if it's bloody him this time!_?"

Before I knew it I was engulfed in Sherlock's arms and he'd lifted me up so that my feet were inches from the floor, his lips crashed into mine. Placing me carefully onto the ground he was smiling ear to ear, his eyes were filled with joy. "John, you wonderful man! Of Course! How did I miss it? You, John Watson. You are brilliant!  **Brilliant!** " The realisation of being in an office made entirely of glass in the middle of a police station hit Sherlock, he earned a few shocked looks through the windows as Greg and myself continued to stare at the detective hoping he would explain himself. "Come John, lets go home for tonight. We're already one step ahead." He clutched my hand guiding me to the lift. Lestrade followed us with a sense of urgency.

"Sherlock, what is it mate? Has he slipped up? I don't get it?..." Questions continued to roll from Greg until we stepped into the lift. Sherlock simply grinned back at the puzzled detective before stating what was to him, the obvious.

"Richard Brook."


	13. He's Back

**Sherlock's P.O.V;**

_Oh Moriarty had been such a fool!_ The man had the nerve to call me boring? It was obvious. Of course the man on the roof who had shot himself. It was not Moriarty.

Gripping John's hand I could feel my smile only become larger by the second, this day was shaping up to be the best I'd had in quite some time. Not only was I now in a relationship with the doctor but I was now one step ahead of the enemy. How foolish the man had been, no matter how hard one might try, one will always leave a trail of breadcrumbs behind. Even Moriarty.

" _Every fairy-tale needs a good old-fashioned villain..._ "

The cab ride home was thankfully short, although he never let go of my hand, he didn't once look away from my smiling exterior which, for once, reflected my inner feelings. I'm not sure why he was staring? Did he want answers about my sudden epiphany? Was he angry? sad? I didn't know but decided it would be best if I waited for John to express his thoughts, I didn't want to deduce the man... after all, if he was angry, I'm damn sure he'd become more agitated.

Since I was now John's boyfriend, I felt obliged to pay the cabbie for once. I practically threw the money at the man before chasing after my doctor into 221B Baker Street. I shrugged of my coat and rid myself of my essential blue scarf. As I ascended the staircase I could hear that John had already began to boil the water for our tea, I slipped into the kitchen and snuck up behind him. I rested my hands on the short mans hips and placed my head on his shoulder trailing kisses up the mans jawline. "John, thank you."

"Sorry, what was that? was that Sherlock Holmes, the great consulting detective  _thanking_ someone?" John turned in my arms chuckling. "The question is.  _What for?_ " Obviously, I remember Richard Brook, I mean. He, well, Moriarty played him to ruin you and that's why you left..." We stood in silence for only a moment as I watched John blink away the tears threatening to spill. I moved my hand to lay on his cheek. "But Sherlock, what does Richard Brook have to do with his return?"

"John, if he could create Richard Brook and live in society with Kitty whilst running a  terror organisation consisting of thousands of cells and also concocting a plan to slowly 'burn me' then what is to say that he hasn't created countless identities and dreamt up multiple scenarios in which he could live during the years he's theoretically been in hiding. That man was capable of everything and was willing to stop at nothing. How do we know for sure that was Moriarty on the roof? I didn't inspect the body, he has many authoritative figures under his thumb, so many ways out. If I can cheat death, John. Why Can't he?"

During my explanation my hands had removed themselves from John's hips and his cheek and had found their way to my own hair. I toyed with the curls as I drew further into myself, my head filled with my own thoughts. Moriarty was alive. He was coming for me. For John. I couldn't let him get near John again. He had tried to blow up the only man I've ever loved, and that was before we were together. Imagine what he would do if he found out about John and I? I need to protect John. I felt my back collide with the wall, I slid down until I was sat on the tiled floor, my breathing rate only increased as I thought out more and more possibilities, I've hurt John enough by myself, I don't need his help, if he lays a finger on my John. I will make h-

John shook me out of my own mind. His deep blue eyes full of concern. "Sherlock? Sherlock, love. Are you okay? Sherlock listen to me. Look at me." I slowly raised my head so that our eyes were level. "Sherlock, what's wrong sweetheart?"

"John, I can't let him hurt you, we can't do this. He'll use you to hurt me."

"Sherlock. I was a soldier"

"John, please. You're a doctor, just don't make this harder than necessary"

"Sherlock. I can take care of myself love, you just concentrate on finding the bastard and stop worrying about my little-sorry-jumper wearing-arse, Okay?"

I couldn't let him get hurt, and I'm going to do everything possible to protect John Watson.


	14. Goodnight

**John's P.O.V:**

It seemed like a lifetime watching Sherlock's episode in the kitchen. As he explained his theory, his speech quickened to an almost incomprehensible speed, his breathing rapidly increased and was running his hand through the thick, dark chocolate curls. His face slowly started to crumple, and he was backing away from me, only stopping when he met the wall before dropping to the floor.

He was so vulnerable, this was much worse than Sherlock's speech when he had handed me the gift this morning, this was Sherlock's notorious mind at work. He would have been picturing hundreds of scenarios, all of which I assume unpleasant by his reaction to his own thoughts wondering. It seemed to take the detective hours, when in reality it was most likely seconds, to whisper his reply.

" _okay_ "

I kissed Sherlock, not to lead him to the bedroom, not to strip him of his clothes, but to rid him of his problems. Our lips moved in unison as I pulled Sherlock towards me, hopefully drawing out his problems in the way venom would be sucked out of a snake bite. When we reluctantly pulled apart, I received a small smile from him before sitting beside him on the tiled floor of the kitchen where we continued to sit in each others arms for quite some time.

I eventually continued with the tea I had planned to make an hour ago. I went to my room with mine, after all the only reason I had ended up in Sherlock's bedroom last night was because of my drinking and lack of consciousness. I'd changed my usual attire for bed. A pair of baggy, grey, lounge pants and a white t-shirt. There was a light knock at the door before Sherlock came in. "John, I was just um, wondering. Would you... I mean, you don't have to if it makes you feel uncomfortable. But. Ah, will you bring your tea back downstairs? I would like you to sleep with me" I simply raised a suggestive eyebrow before he realised his poor wording. "Oh, God, no. John, I didn't mean that, well obviously it's not off the table" Sherlock smiled sheepishly at the thought, "I simply meant we could share a bed, mine is just more convenient since its closer to the bathroom and the kitchen, just much easier. So what do you say love? Fancy sharing a bed, That's what boyfriends do, right?" He looked quizzical.

"Yes I will, I'll be down in just a second." I picked up my book and my mug and followed Sherlock down the stairs.

We sat in bed and drank our tea, laughing about Sgt Donovan's reaction to our revelation and how she was probably 'scrubbing the floors' at Anderson's right now, after all his wife is away again! "Oh God! No, Sherlock, please don't. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little at the thought of them two... at it" We were rolling around laughing, it was side splitting! "I... Can't... Bree... the... John" Sherlock wheezed, every time we had composed ourselves we would catch our tear stained faces in the reflection of the mirror and burst into tears from laughing all over again.

It was almost 1am when we had settled down, I had my arm across the detectives chest and he had his arm under my head, our legs intertwined once again. I sighed, placing my head on Sherlock's shoulder and snuggling into the crook of his neck. I couldn't help but notice how good Sherlock always smelled, and that his skin was incredibly soft.

The last thing I remember before drifting off was the pleasant sensation of Sherlock's fingers playing with my hair.


	15. Good Morning Sunshine

**Sherlock's P.O.V;**

I didn't sleep much, spending most of the night watching John sleep and worrying. I couldn't help but think about what could happen to John if Moriarty got to John. Eventually I fell asleep after realising how exhausted I had become recently, plus I'm sure within weeks, if not days, I won't be sleeping as this case is going to take everything I have.

I remember waking up after only a few hours of sleep, discovering a slight problem. As I looked down to see John's sleeping face resting against my bare chest but I couldn't help but notice the duvet had risen over my manhood. For God's sake! The first time I soberly share a bed with my doctor and this happens. I must have cringed using my body too as I felt John stir on my chest. After a few grunts, which were adorable if I say so, his eyelids began to flutter as they opened. "Good morning, Doctor Waston" I brushed my lips against his forehead hoping to draw the attention away from the bulge next to him. I received a sleepy smile from John as he sat up in the bed, he was leaning into me as he saw it.

Damn!

"Sherlock!" John gasped, and this time it was my turn to blush. I could feel my face getting pinker with each passing second.

"Please, John. You're a doctor. You know this is a regular occurrence for males and I would have dealt with it before now. However, you badly timed your awakening."

"Sherlock, I'm sure I can help you find a way of 'dealing' with it, after all you still owe me for the argument with Donovan I had with Sally at The Yard yesterday, since you found it so hot..."

John's lips collided with mine, as his tongue began to brush against my bottom lip the doctor began to straddle me. I grabbed onto his arse, pulling his hips flush with mine. John made a small sound at the back of his throat as I opened my mouth allowing his tongue to graze over my teeth, my hands began to work their way up his back to his hair. Running my hand through the dishevelled blonde hair I felt John begin to grind on top of me, it was me who groaned this time as John moved his hand down towards my length, seizing it. He began to pump. It wasn't long until I was bucking into John's palm moaning his name into his ear. He sucked at the soft skin on my collar bone, nibbling and bit down hard as I released my seed into his hand.

I felt John's return to it's placid state as my length did. Our breathing soon returned to normal but the only words I could muster to sum up the surprise events of the morning were "John, you may want to wash those trousers..." He giggled, blushing furiously before excusing himself so he could shower. I considered joining him, but I suppose everyone needs their space, and it was my fault he had to shower so soon. Missing John's embrace I too changed into a suit before making my way to the kitchen to make the two of us tea. There was only one thing I was sure of this morning.

John Watson is the only man for me.


	16. Doctor or Detective?

**John's P.O.V;**

I squeezed the shampoo into my palm and rubbed it into my scalp. Running my fingers through my short hair while the hot water cascaded down my back I couldn't help my face continuing to redden at the thought of my detective. Despite the years of denying Mrs. Hudson's remarks at my relationship with Sherlock, I-no-we were most definitely gay. I don't know whether or not it was exclusively men Sherlock found attractive, or if he found anyone besides me attractive. This is Sherlock after all? Who knows what goes on in that big brain of his...

I showered slightly longer than usual to ensure that my embarrassment of finishing into my own pants no longer showed on my face. Satisfied I no longer had rosy cheeks, I went back to my own room and changed into another jumper for another day at Scotland Yard.

_____

Luckily, last night Greg had been thinking overtime to figure what Richard Brook had to do with Moriarty now, after all it had been plastered across every headline in London (and England for that matter) that he was created by Moriarty. Sherlock quickly explained that it was not  _Richard Brook_  who they were looking for, but yet another successful pseudonym, it was the principle of creating such a secure false identity they needed to look at to find Jim Moriarty.

We then spent the next few hours researching Richard Brook, about how the man who had manifested in the year 2007, Moriarty had spent 5 years planning to tear Sherlock's life apart but only when he was at the peak of his career did the man make his move to send his world crashing down around him. He was on children's television and had a respectable career, residing with Kitty in the centre of London. He had created such an elaborate character to play, the innocent man desperate for more money, after all TV doesn't pay well. He turned to the consulting criminal to earn enough money he would never have to work again. His life up to that point was 'normal' but something had to point us to his new identity.

"Sherlock maybe he's on TV again?"

"No John, he's recognisable, he was a news phenomenon"

"You're right, um, what about working with kids then?"

"Why kids?"

"Well it was Children's TV, plus they would've too young to remember the news stories..."

"I suppose that's probable, John. However, factor in their parents and Moriarty wouldn't risk showing his face so soon though John, he'll have been hidden from society sending others to do the hard work."

"Well he could, um. I don't know, work from home?"

"John, that a brilliant idea!"

"Really? or is this the Holmes sarcasm again?"

"No John, really! Think! What Job are you capable of doing if you were to never leave the house or even a single room?"

"Of course Sherlock!" I knew exactly where his thoughts were going, after all I spent countless hours on my laptop each day in the flat, tapping away at the keys, filling the page of my blog. "He Could Write!"

I looked to my left to see Lestrade leaning back in his chair, awestruck. Anderson and Donovan beside him with similar facial expressions. It took me a while to understand it was me who they were staring at, I was used to people staring at Sherlock, not me. "Greg?..." Lestrade leaned forward grabbing the polyester cup that contained his coffee. "Bloody hell, John. Since when can you do that? I thought it was only  _The great consulting detective_ that could figure out something like that!" He grinned at me. "Well I guess that living with one of the infamous Holmes brothers isn't all bad"

"Excuse me?" Sherlock feigned a hurtful expression as he dug his elbow playfully into my ribs, smirking at me.

"Oops, What I meant to say was it's wonderful, bloody fantastic!" Throwing my arms enthusiastically around Sherlock's waist as he planted a kiss on my cheek.

"Much better, thank you." He continued to smirk as we stood with our arms draped over one another while I was suddenly aware of the people in the room with us, Greg was chuckling of course, however I'm 95% sure I saw Anderson gag while shiftily looking at Donovan who still didn't know what to do.

It was Greg who spoke next. "Sally, Phil, you two need to lighten up! Haven't you ever seen two blokes having a laugh?" Their attention now on him "Christ on a bike! So what they're gay?"

"It's not the gay, it's the freak. How can someone like him be happy and not me?" Sally let it slip before her brain had even thought about her utterance.

"Well Sally" Sherlock spoke up. "This  _Freak_ is happy because he understands commitment as does his boyfriend." Sherlock pulled me close, "Maybe if you were to stop playing games with married men," he glanced at Anderson beside her, "you would find yourself a boyfriend too? Then again. You are rather unpleasant." Greg and I were both roaring with laughter as Sherlock stood proud, chest pushed out but a smug grin on his face. Sally threw a disapproving look at both Sherlock and Anderson before storming out of the office, Anderson hot on her heels.

"I think I may have just caused quite the domestic... However Graham-"

"It's Greg!" Lestrade and I both spoke in unison.

"It doesn't matter what your name is! We need to start looking for children writers with similar credentials to Richard Brook straight away. When he writes these books he'll specialise in fairy tales."

"Care to tell us why?" Greg probed.

"Of course. After all Lestrade,  _every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain_ "


	17. Scotland Yard

**Sherlock's P.O.V;**

I was incredibly impressed by John's deduction skills, they're continuing to improve everyday. Of course it means I spend less time explaining my thoughts aloud which means the work is becoming significantly quicker. On the other hand I miss the confusion on his face as he stared up at me wondering what I'd figured out, that is a face I would never grow tired of, but one I am slowly beginning to miss. I was still unaware of how these feelings are supposed work, I just get sudden urges to grab his slightly wrinkled face with both hands and press our lips together. I definitely enjoyed kissing, it was more pleasant than I could have imagined considering how unsanitary the whole thing is.

I continued to explain to Lestrade that the man we searched for was a children's author who's books have boomed over the past few years. He'd have written multiple fairy tale stories and there was always the possibilities of crime novels too, after all and alias is always a self portrait. Richard Brook had was an actor, after all. Moriarty had a flare for dramatics. Through out the whole conversation my eyes continued to focus on John, he sat sipping his coffee and picking at the edges of the disposable cup. "John?" He hummed back as a response. "Are you okay?" my voice was sceptical.

"Oh. What? Hmm. Yes, sorry. I was just thinking..." The doctor continued to stare into space. I notice Greg shoot me a look, he wanted me to pry. I wouldn't, not in front of him anyway, I could see the corners of John's mouth were turned down and his brow furrowed, he was worried, most likely about the outcome of the case. He needed my comfort, but I couldn't oblige in the glass box that was Lestrade's office, I wasn't entirely comfortable with this new relationship just yet, but I'll adjust soon, I'd do anything where John is concerned.

I acted un-phased by John's worry and continued to aid Lestrade with some delightfully boring murders. How transparent could one man be? It was obviously the gardener, look at the mud stains on the rug! How London did not crash and burn while I was gone for two years, I'll never know!

As I rose from my seat beside the detective inspector to head back to the flat I heard a sniffle from the corner of the room. My eyes darted to where John was sat making contact with his watering eyes, I rushed to the mans side. "John, Oh my God, John? Are you okay? What's wrong? Have I done something? Tell me. John?" I hadn't noticed how fast my speech was until I saw John smiling sadly at me.

"Sher-No-Slow down-Sherlock! I'm fine, It's just, I almost lost you twice now! I don't want to go through that a third time. That's all..." Greg cleared his throat from behind us, making an excuse so that he could leave, giving us some time alone. I didn't turn to watch him leave, all my energy was focused on John. "Look, I'm being a girl Sherlock, can we just go home? Let's not tell anyone about this, and let Greg know I'll bloody kill him if he does!" I barely had time to laugh before his lips were softly placed onto mine. He pulled on the lapels of my coat bringing me towards him. I took his waist and shifted him onto my knee. I would never grow tired of kissing John, ever. My hands continued to grab at his jumper as his slid into my hair, I could feel him tugging at the messy curls and there was an almost inaudible groan at the back of my throat. He knew exactly how to drive me mad.

There was another small cough from the door. Lestrade was back.

John was blushing before we even had time to separate ourselves, he made a break for the coat hook, slinging on his favourite Barbour Jacket while I straightened my scarf. "Bloody hell. I've been gone, for what? 10 minutes" He checked his watch. "and I come back to find you two getting off in my office!" John was mortified, yet I seized the opportunity.

"Lestrade, get off it! Can a couple of men not have a quick shag in an office?" His face was glorious! However, only for a second, I'd caught the man off guard but he soon regained his posture. "Oh my god, please keep it to the bedroom, you can do that wherever you like guys, just as long as you're far away from me" He was laughing now. I chuckled with him. John continued to blush

"Oh Greg, I'm sorry, I didn't- We didn't... There was no sex, just kissing, I promise. Why am I still talking? Oh God." 

"John, mate there is no need to be embarrassed. There's plenty of times I've walked in on you and your birds before at Baker Street. What did the daily mail call you again? Oh yeah a 'Batchelor' Was it? At least now I'll definitely know to ring the door bell before bursting in!" I frowned at the thought of John and one of his women on our sofa... "God knows I don't want to see your bare arse again!"

That was our queue to leave. Grabbing John's hand I made a polite threat to Lestrade as to silence him considering the afternoons events, we left the office abruptly ending the conversation regarding John's sex life with  _others._ We climbed into a cab and made our way home. Although our hands stayed joined, we stayed in silence for the entire journey.

I needed time to think.


	18. Silence

**John's P.O.V;**

I don't usually mind sitting in silence with Sherlock, after all he wouldn't talk for days on end. It was usually one of those comfortable silences. you know? Like, you could sit for the rest of eternity with the person and not say a single word because you both understood the other perfectly. The cab ride home was different though, Sherlock had obviously been irritated by something Lestrade had said before he dragged me out of the building and shoved me into the closest cab.

My thoughts that had filled my head all day that consisted of the day at Bart's, the day he stepped on the plane, the countless times he'd returned to the flat barely conscious. The times he'd put himself in danger for a case... But right now those thoughts had disintegrated into nothing, The only thought that I could concentrate on was soothing Sherlock. I held his hand, running my thumbs over his knuckles back and forth, I waited for his hand to relax in mine, but it didn't. After paying the cabbie I followed Sherlock into our flat and retired to my chair, sitting across from him in his own.

I studied his face. It was almost white, I was used to the man being pale, but he seemed even paler if that was even possible? The raven curls fell loosely around his face as he tipped his head forward resting his chin on his fist. His eyebrow had knitted itself into a constant look of confusion as he was deep in thought. I began to open my mouth to speak when I realised how little that would help. Sherlock would be the first to speak, he was always the first to engage me after his days of silence. 

I stood up, not bothering to excuse myself and made my way to the kitchen to brew some tea. I fiddled around with the cups trying to occupy myself while I waited for the water to boil. Sherlock's mood rippled through the flat, I could feel him sulking in the next room and his worry was radiating. It seemed to take a life time but I eventually placed the two cups of tea on a small tray and turned to make my way back to the living room. The tray slipped from my hands, clattering to the ground as the porcelain shattered across the floor

"OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE" I sighed, I bent down and began to collect all of the pieces in defeat. I felt a sharp pain shoot through my hand, oh great! I'd cut my finger, just what I need. Groaning inwardly stood once more but only to find Sherlock's face inches from mine, his eyes concerned. "John, You're hurt..."

"Sher, I'm fine it's just a cut, just grab us a plaster will you?" He obliged, running to the drawer and grabbing the plaster before tearing through the package and sticking it over the cut. He placed his hands over my own and lifted them to his lips, brushing them across my injured hand.  "There," he said, "all better?"

I nodded feebly, spreading my hand across his cheek "Yes, but you're not. Are you?" The man in front of me gazed down at me as he tried to string words together to make a sentence.

"John, I... You must understand, this is extremely hard for me. I'm not talking about Moriarty, I mean you... I mean us. This whole 'relationship' is something I've never really experienced before, with neither men or women. It is going to take me a while to learn about boundaries and understand things, I'm a sociopath, for god's sake! But I'm trying my God damn hardest to make you happy and I'm going after Moriarty whether you approve or not because it's the only way I don't have to worry about you every day when you leave the flat alone, without constantly fearing you'll be taken from me. I don't even understand what I'm feeling but please John. Please. Help me understand..."

His voice broke and he collapsed into a heap on the floor and drew his legs up to his chest so that he could rest his forehead on his knees and he sighed, rubbing his temples. "Sherlock. I get it, I really do, even I haven't felt like this before..." I saw him begin to interrupt, "No-Sher, let me finish, obviously I've been with women" He flinched, so I sat beside him and wrapped my arms around his waist before continuing. "I know you think that means I'll love you differently, but Sherlock, there is a reason it never worked with those women, There was room for only one person in my head, my heart. You. I don't want you to leave me either, So I'm going to help you find Moriarty because there is no way you're doing this by yourself! Together we're going to bring him down and show him how little he is truly worth and God knows, together we are going to work, because.. Because." I lifted his chin so that I could see the mans watering eyes.

"I love you. Sherlock Holmes."

"I love you too, John Waston." He brought his lips close to mine, "I love you too." He mumbled, finally closing the distance.


	19. Green With Envy

**Sherlock's P.O.V;**

God, how I hated not knowing. Not Understanding. I needed to be in control, but I was certain of one thing, whenever and wherever John Watson is concerned, I was no longer in control. I let my animalistic urges take over,  _I felt things._ Me! Sherlock Holmes! I felt things, Dr. John Hamish Watson brought out a new side to me that I could not comprehend but dammit I wanted to learn to! As we sit on the floor of our kitchen, our lips moving in synchronisation I couldn't help but wonder why he could make me feel so incredibly happy yet so ill at the same time? I never wanted to let go of John, my arms pulling him close, however, one needs oxygen.  _Ugh, breathing. My downfall._

As I pulled away John shuffled onto my lap his arms still wrapped around my waist, with my back pressed against the cool cabinets behind us, the warmth of John was truly welcome as he nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck. "Sherlock, do you want to speak about what happened today?"

"Well, John. We woke up, went to work, returned to our flat. Then I'm pretty sure that I made it quite clear I'm unaware of how my feelings work but that I am aware that love you. We then kissed for a few minutes, and now here we are in our kitchen."

"No, Sherlock. I mean at Scotland Yard. You stormed out of there dragging me behind you like a naughty school boy..."

I smirked. "Well John, I never had you pegged as someone who role plays" I lifted my head so I could throw him a wink. "But, if you insist, I suppo-" I was cut short but a clip to the ear.

"Sherlock, as intriguing as that sounds... let's focus on the topic at hand." His gaze was no longer playful, but continued to show his interest in my thoughts.

"I felt sick, like most people do from time to time John. I know this may surprise you, but unfortunately, I am still human." I looked down at the man on my knee again, seeing his inquisitive eyes looking back into mine. "I know you are wondering as to why I felt ill, that is a question I cannot answer. Greg was referring to you and your..." I closed my eyes in disgust "Lady friends, I have felt uncomfortable before, but this was new John, entirely new. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach and I was angry, then again, I usually am... I couldn't bare to be in the room any longer, then he mentioned your... well, let's say, behind. That was the final straw. We had to leave before I vomited."

I heard John attempt to stifle his laughter, poorly, may I add. He noticed that I had seen and he practically rolled off of my knee and onto the tiles where he laid on his back laughing like a maniac. I couldn't help but stare in disbelief, I thought John could be trusted with my thoughts, apparently not. I will keep them to myself in the future. I stood so that I could leave the man I love on the floor while he ridiculed me but I felt hands grab at my wrist pulling me down on top of John. I caught myself on the tiles, my arms holding most of my weight off of the man below.

He grasped my face between both of his hands and began planting soft kisses on all of my features and continued to softly chuckle to himself. "Oh Sherlock." He planted another kiss on my temple. "You are so silly sometimes." another kiss on my cheek bone. "What you felt, Sherlock." I felt his lips press to the tip of my nose. "Was jealousy..." Then his lips finally rested upon mine.

Since when was I, Sherlock Holmes envious?


	20. The Night

**John's P.O.V;**

My detective remained balanced on top of me on the kitchen floor for quite some time, we planted soft kisses all over one another until Sherlock readjusted his weight. He soon had my hands pinned above my head and had parted his knees so that he was straddling my waist, our lips still moving together. I moved my hips creating friction earning a groan of pleasure from the detective. I could feel my arousal growing, as was Sherlock's. My hands broke free of his grip and I let them roam over Sherlock's body until they rested on his bum followed by the feeling of Sherlock moaning against my lips once more, I dragged myself away from his lips to allow myself to speak. Before I had chance to open my mouth, Sherlock's kiss-swollen lips were already trailing along my jawline as his arms encircled my waist. "Sherlock. Bedroom. Now."

He pulled me onto my feet, arms still wrapped tightly around my waist we meandered through the flat to get to our bedroom. As the door shut behind us I pressed him against it. I could feel his pleasure as his pants grew tighter. My fingers worked away at his shirt buttons until they had eventually all had popped open. Running my hands over his chest caused him to moan which conveyed his approval of my fingertips roaming further. My hands were stopped by Sherlock who was attempting to tug my jumper off, I breathed a laugh as he struggled tugging at the fabric between us. I tore the jumper off, desperate for the closeness only Sherlock could provide.

It wasn't long until Sherlock had shoved me down onto the bed causing the frame to shake. "John" His voice was lustful. "I'm definitely in control now." He smirked at me before discarding my trousers and his own, leaving only our pants between us. He climbed back on top of my aching body before I could object his hands were all over me again. Our lips never parted because I never wanted to stop kissing Sherlock, he tasted so good, I could taste his toothpaste and a hint of tea and something so unique it could only be described as Sherlock. He tore his mouth from mine and I instantly missed the contact. He began to nibble and suck on my collar bone his hips continuing to grind on my own. I couldn't muster any words as I felt his bony fingers work at the waistband of my favourite red pants, lifting my hips so that he could slide them off. This was the first time Sherlock had seen me this exposed and as I lay below him I could feel the smile on his lips against my skin. "John, you're  _mine._ " He was breathless, "I have you, nobody else does, you are mine."

Suddenly I rolled us so that the unsuspecting Sherlock was below me now. "and you are mine. This time I'm in control." He wriggled out of his pants as I grabbed for the tube of lubrication in the top drawer of the bedside table. I turned back to see Sherlock starfish on the bed, waiting for me to make the first move. "Now, Sher, do you want me to, or do you want to.. well... you know." I gulped, blushing slightly.

"John. I assume we will be doing this again, quite soon." He gestured to our current situation with a waving arm. "So please, don't keep me waiting." The air was thick with anticipation, my eyes drinking Sherlock in. My eyes ran over his body as my hands just had, his pale skin glistened with sweat and he looked truly beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom. I was soon on top of Sherlock again, my hand coated in lube I slowly pushed a finger into Sherlock. He gasped. I didn't move, I allowed him time to readjust to the new sensation before I began to push in more and more, I eventually separated my fingers, ensuring there would be enough room. Slowly moving my hand in and out I was trailing kisses along the mans v-line listening to the sound of this heavy breath leaning into his hand that was tugging on my hair. "John, Please. I beg you. Just...  _Johnnnn."_ I removed my hand, satisfied I had driven the man wild for long enough. I lined myself up with Sherlock, before finally thrusting into him. He cried out, at which point I'm sure Mrs. Hudson and the whole of London was aware of what we were up to. I rocked my hips, gaining speed and I felt Sherlock's body convulse below mine, I had found his prostate. I picked up my pace even more, Sherlock's cries echoed through baker street as he pulled as his fingernails dug into my back. It was soon my turn to shout. I filled Sherlock, Crying out his name as I gripped the bed frame which was currently banging against the wall. As I rode out my orgasm I noticed the man below me crying out in harmony with myself as our stomachs became hot and sweaty with his own liquid.

_

We had cleaned up and laid side by side in our bed. Still flushed we lay facing each other, our noses only centimetres apart. Wrapped in each others limbs I couldn't help but sigh contently at the memories we had just created.

"I love you Sherlock Holmes."  
"And I love you Dr. Watson." Suddenly Sherlock's weight was above me once again, his lips brushing against my own softly. "How about we go again? I believe it's your turn now?"

I received a final wink from the detective before he bit down on my lip.


	21. The Morning After

**Sherlock's P.O.V;**

I awoke with my limbs tangled with John's.

_John._

Last night was the first time I felt truly primal, I had succumbed to women during my drug days, but this. This thing John and I have, what we experience together. It was entirely different from the women in back alleys and the men in the drug dens. My thoughts stopped entirely the only thing that drove me were my animalistic urges and it had been blissful.

I softly brushed my lips against the cheek of the man laying asleep in my arms, it roused him from his slumber and his eyelids fluttered open so that he was looking straight at me with his deep sea eyes. I could swim for hours in them, but as he captured my lips with his own, I couldn't keep my eyes open. "G'mornin' Sherl'k" His voice was hoarse from his sleep and I couldn't help but grin at my doctor. "Good morning." Planting yet another kiss on his cheek, I became rather aware of the lack of clothing. Clearing my throat I sat up so that my back was against the cool bedframe, I pulled John to my chest, wrapping my arms around him further. I buried my face in his tousled blonde hair taking in his scent.

It was then I noticed the damage I had caused last night. There were multiple lines of raised skin on his back which had turned a light shade of red. I followed the lines that lead to his hips, where small purple bruises had formed in the shape of my fingertips. I instinctively reached my hand out in order to soothe the pain I had caused John which was stopped by him taking my hand in his. He pulled his head from my chest and studied my face. It must have been dominated by pure worry rather than the love I felt spending the morning in bed beside him. "Sher, I'm fine." I was not convinced.

"John, look at what I've done. Jesus, you're covered in bruises and scratch marks... I should've had more self contr-"

"No."

"No?"

"You heard me Sherlock, _En. Oh_. You don't need to have self control in that department..." He winked as he trailed off suggestively. Before our conversation could continue my phone beeped signalling that I had received a new text message. It was from Lestrade, he had narrowed down the possibility of two locations where Moriarty would be hiding. I suspect Mycroft had helped.

"UP! UP JOHN! We need to go to Scotland Yard." I jumped out of bed and a searing pain shot up my spine, I composed myself so that John needn't know that I was injured too. I began to pull on fresh boxers and trousers as I watched John stand, he limped to the draw, Oh God. _He Limped._

"John, you seem to be having a problem over there. Need some help?" I raise an eyebrow as he turns to face me. "I could get you your cane from upstairs." I could feel the corners of my mouth twitching at least it was the pleasure I had caused that had brought him such pain. He scoffed from across the room "Piss off, you know full well this is your fault." He wiggles his finger at me accusingly. "And These!!!" He gestures to his neck line and his collar bones which were currently covered in bite marks and bruising "How am I going to explain this. Oh and Sher. Your own marks are matching mine." He smirked. I glanced at myself in the mirror noting the purple marks covering my neck, I ignore them as they can be easily concealed by my scarf but I notice one mark in the crevice between my earlobe and jawbone, Oh John.

"Like I said Sherlock. I'm Yours, and you are most certainly mine."

_____

It wasn't long until we reached The Yard, everyone there well aware of our relationship after Lestrade's constant 'hilarious' remarks so we felt comfortable to walk in hand in hand. John too was wearing one of my scarfs today, luckily it was a chilly morning so went unnoticed by most. However, John's limp was noticeable as was the love bite on my jaw. Walking into Lestrade goldfish-bowl office he noticed. Oh god did the man notice John carefully lowering himself into the chair. His eyes were already glistening and his thoughts racing trying to come up with yet another wise crack about our intimacy when I heard him gasp.He has finally spotted the love bite, it only took him 6.2 seconds, rather impressive in comparison to his usual deductive skills.

"Fun night I'm guessing? Anderson will no longer call you 'the virgin' now when you looked so roughed up. Blimey John!" He patted me on the back as he gestured for me to take a seat beside John, who was blushing furiously.

"Greg, I swear to God. You even try to test me today I will let Sherlock go full on, well. Sherlock on you all day."

"Well as long as I don't receive the same Sherlock treatment you do."

John began to mutter between laughs "God, give me strength."

I decided to join. "Lestrade, although I'm enticed by the fun and games you share with John, I'll clear the air. Yes me and John engaged in the act of physical intimacy last night, you rudely dragged us from any possible repeat and therefore there is no need to continue to torment _my_ John." 

"Your John?"

John sighed. "Oh God, please no. Not this again..." He was Rubbing his face with his hands. "Greg, mate. Please, if you hadn't mentioned my arse in the first place It might not be searing with bloody pain!" Lestrade was horrified. He choked out a single sentence before giving up on the subject. "Too. Much. Bloody. Information."

"That's my John." I smiled at him. "Yes Detective Inspector, he is mine and I am his, we can give you all the details if you like? number of times, positions..." It was fun to watch the man squirm beneath my gaze, he used the palm of his hands to cover his ears so that he could no longer hear anything. "Look, you two love each other, yeah? Don't deny it, I see the way you look at the other. Sherlock is more bearable now even on a morning like today, so bloody go for gold. Shag your brains out. But  _I BEG YOU_ don't tell me about it. Ok?"

He removed his hands as we all chuckled before setting to work.


	22. Addresses

John's P.O.V;

After our uncomfortable chat with Greg this morning we set straight to work. We had narrowed down Moriarty's location to a handful of addresses. The anonymous 'children's author' was possibly residing in 465 Towler End. 72 Somerset Way, 324 Churchill Road or 6 Quarry Hill. Now it was down to us how fast we got him to -as Sherlock would say- "come out and play."

God knows I'm ready to kill the bastard, this is the man who stopped me and Sherlock from being together for 2 years, imagine where we could be now if he hadn't of torn us apart in the first place? Would we be married? Have kids? Who knows. All because of a man's greed, he wasn't going to share his toy. Well too late. His toy is mine now, and he is never going to play with Sherlock again, not on my watch. I am a soldier.

Straight away Sherlock knew that the addresses on Towler End and Churchill Road were not an option for Moriarty, the area's they were both in were more or less poverty stricken, the two authors in those residences were too poor to tend to the needs of Jim Moriarty's lifestyle. Leaving only 72 Somerset Way and 6 Quarry Hill. Both in the same area in London, well know for their private estates and extremely efficient security, this suited Jim. He would never live a half life when he could sit each day in a luxurious home with Vivienne Westwood suits and Armarni shoes galore. There was one thing you could guarantee with Moriarty and that was he was to look impeccable. He would have an immaculate appearance, a fresh and slightly crisp suit (worth more than all of my jumpers put together). He would dress to the nines to nip out for a loaf of bread., so why would his housing be any different? The man was to spend every waking minute in this home, it wouldn't be shabby.

With only two addresses to go through we inspected each file containing the blue prints to the houses and the estates that they were part of. It seemed that both were equally as easy to get into as long as we had a helping hand from Mycroft. We were handed the files of the two authors who lived in the two properties. The first man, Henry Bishop had been writing for a number of years, a child's author, yet sometimes crime novels(that look extremely interesting may I add.) The Second was a man named Rupert Stevens. He was solely a child's author, like Henry, he had written a handful of stories such as sir boast-a-lot. I passed on the file to Sherlock before retrieving my coffee. As his eyes were scanning the page he gasped beside me. Before I was even aware of myself moving my hand was on his thigh and I was invading his personal space. "Are you okay, love?"

"John. This man, Rupert Stevens. He is the one." I stiffened in my seat, not removing my hand from Sherlock's leg.

"And you know this because..."

"Sir Boast-a-lot. That story was written specifically for me." The file containing the information was placed gently on the table as Sherlock moved his hand so that it was on top of my own, keeping my holding onto his thigh. "John, when he was preparing for my fall," I winced and he just grabbed onto my hand, it was his turn to comfort me now, "he had given me a ride in a cab - I was unaware he was the driver, after all you remember from our first case together how easily cabbies can conceal themselves - during the cab ride he played me a short video, It was Richard Brook telling the story of Sir Boast-a-lot, it was me. I'm the knight he was talking about. This Rupert Stevens has to be Moriarty's alias, how else could he have known? Detective Inspector, John, if you will excuse me, I must go and speak to my brother."

Sherlock stood up leaving me and Greg to start discussing the plans which needed to be made.

_____

Sherlock didn't return after twenty minutes which was odd. The man would often disappear in the blink of an eye but his phone calls with Mycroft were always abrupt, no longer than necessary. Despite the brotherly love evident between them they refused to show it, and with that thought I excused myself and went to look for Sherlock. I found him stood at the end of an empty hallway with his back facing me and his hand pressed up against the glass of the window with his forehead resting upon it merely staring out at the London 32 floors below him. I walked and stood beside Sherlock, taking his hand that had stayed by his side in my own whilst mirroring the detective pressing my free hand on the window. I wasn't sure what to do in this moment. We were about to go and face the one man who had continued to cause us pain and fear for years but this time we were truly together, in every sense of the word.

Sherlock's thumb caressed my knuckles as our fingers remained intertwined, It was now clear to me he was not looking over London as I had first thought, but with his eyes closed he was in his mind palace once again. I loved to watch my detective think, it made him look beautiful. His brow was slightly furrowed while his eyes remained closed meaning that his long eyelashes softly rested on the cheekbones I crave, my gaze continued to roam reaching his incredible jaw line. This lead the way round to his lips. The lips which sent sparks of electricity through me each time they met my own, the lips which fascinated me each time they spoke, the lips so perfectly shaped they formed a small cupids bow on the man's face. All of his beautiful features that made the man who stood beside me were of course framed by the untameable dark chocolate curls.

I will always marvel at the beauty of the man who chose to love me but now was not the time to continue. I treasured each moment I spent with him, but the noise of the elevator arriving at our floor and the distinctive sound of an umbrella hitting the ground approached us it was a matter of seconds before Mycroft greeted us. "Good Morning Little Brother, John. I think we have business we must attend to, let us hurry. I have an appointment I would rather not have to call of this evening with an... old friend, if you will. I would prefer not to cancel so we should hopefully have Moriarty in dealt with before hand."

We followed Mycroft back to Greg's office where we began to plan the fall of James Moriarty.


	23. Rupert Stevens

Sherlock's P.O.V;

It wasn't long after Mycroft's arrival that I began to loose the will to live. Yes the man was the smartest in the room, but I was certainly not far behind. How could one man be such a patronising git all the time? John had to stifle laughs because of the constant eye rolls. Yes the man was helping us prepare a plan which ensure our safety but that didn't make listening to him any less insufferable.

Once Mycroft decided that John, Greg's and also my own idea's about gaining access to where Moriarty had chosen to reside were worthy of his time we had accounted for most possibilities. We would survive this. Unless of course the man had something more extravagant than we could possibly imagine planned. After all this was James Moriarty, the consulting criminal, although his job title lacked originality, he certainly did not.

"Look Sherlock, Just remember this Rupert bloke could just be an author, so don't go in all guns blazing because you could give him the fright of his bloody life!"

"Gregory, I assure you, my little brother is correct when he confirmed Mr. Stevens to be Moriarty. There would be no other suitable alias for the man, we could blow up the house and be entirely sure we had got the right man. Unfortunately the collateral damage would be regrettably large so we must go in on foot." At least Mycroft was beginning to show a little faith in me, after all I had destroyed the man's network completely, dealing with every last vermin that worked with Jim. I deserved some gratitude from time to time

_____

It wasn't long until Mycroft had his men surround 6 Quarry Hill in which Moriarty had been living. The man must have known we were coming, after all, he never misses a trick. Well, Except for one... It had not been hard to fake the fall, then again, it clearly wasn't hard to fake shoot yourself either. Lestrade insisted both he and Mycroft would come into the house too, he believed us to be outnumbered or at least at some disadvantage according to Moriarty's past. After an argument that lasted the entire journey to the estate to join the vast number of Mycroft's men I finally caved and agreed they could come into the house with us.

John and I stood hand in hand at the bottom of the garden's pathway which lead to the front door. I was extremely aware of the closeness of my brother and the detective inspector to myself, their fronts almost pressed against mine and John's backs. I was even more aware of the unhealthy number of snipers pointing at the house in front of us. It was a show home, the architecture matching the rest of the houses on the estate, all made from the same bricks that had been coated in which paint to look 'minimalistic' and 'modern'. I rolled my eyes and scoffed. "This is certifiably Jim Moriarty." I used my free hand to cup John's face, bending down I kissed my blogger softly and briefly, the taste of John lingered on my lips as I tugged at his hand leading him down the path to Moriarty's house.

The front door was unlocked so I pushed it open, there was no point in subtly, the man would know we had the house surrounded and he knew we were coming, why waste time in sneaking in? I heard the familiar tune of Bach floating from the sitting room situated at the back of the house. Walking down the corridor towards the delightfully depressing melody, John's palms began to sweat, I squeezed his hand before feeling him relax into my hand. I was not going to let the one man who made me feel human be torn away from me by the one man who had made me a monster.

Upon opening the door into the lounge area the music stopped abruptly. "Please, Rupert. Do not stop playing on our account, you know how Bach hated an unfinished piece." As the four of us entered the room the man we had come to see was hidden behind the piano he sat at. The symphony soon came to an end and the petite man stood from behind the piano so that he could see us. In the Irish drawl we had grown to hate he uttered the four words that had been playing on our minds since his return.

"Did you miss me?"


End file.
